


This Kiss is a Promise (This Kiss is a Vow)

by plumscent



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: But mostly fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-The Raven King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumscent/pseuds/plumscent
Summary: This is my husband, Ronan,he imagines Adam saying, and something flares up inside him, burning every cell in his body with yearning.(My take on Ronan and Adam getting married.)





	This Kiss is a Promise (This Kiss is a Vow)

**Author's Note:**

> I finished the Raven Cycle two weeks ago, and have been drowning in pynch feelings ever since.  
> Hardly an original plot, but I just couldn't get it out of my head. I love these characters so much, but they were surprisingly difficult to write, so I do hope it's good. <3

Adam is stress cleaning again.

Well, not really again, because Ronan has never seen him do it before, except that he _has_. His dreams, while unpredictable and cryptic in their own ways, could hardly compare to the prophetic readings one could get at 300 Fox Way. And yet, as he stands leaning against the threshold of the bathroom door and watches Adam scrub furiously at an already squeaky-clean bathtub, there is a sense of familiarity to the task. Like Adam does it often, and like Ronan knows by now that it’s better to just leave him be.

His gaze lingers on Adam’s furrowed brows, the tight set of his lips. He knows that it’s better not to say anything, but that doesn’t make seeing Adam distressed any easier. It’s one of their compromises, he thinks, and immediately knows is true. The ones that have accumulated over the years, unspoken. Not quite ideal, he’s sure many would say, but it works for them. Ronan has never been a fan of words. Not when so much of who he is is so intricately entwined with magic that goes beyond what words could ever mean.

His gaze must be burning by now, but Adam has yet to stop or acknowledge him. Ronan is not sure why he’s here; dream-Ronan had wanted to discuss something, but now that this felt less like a dream, even though it was neither a memory, he couldn’t for the life of him remember what he had wanted to say. Instead, he watches as Adam rubs at a small stain by the wall that is shaped like Chainsaw. He frowns, because of course it isn’t, and that must mean that back in the real world _(what is the real world?)_ , she must pestering him to wake up. Wanting food, probably.

“Chainsaw is hungry,” Ronan says, finally breaking the silence. Adam rolls his eyes.

“Well that’s obvious,” he answers, as if Chainsaw has just been there and told them so.

“I’m going, then.” He says it like he’s sorry about it, even though he hadn’t been helping, and even though this Adam isn’t real.

“Okay,” Adam gives him a small smile, as if giving permission, and something inside Ronan wants to be pissed at this but can’t. He blinks quietly instead, searching for something in Adam’s expression. He’s not sure what.

“What?” Adam asks, bemused, and the second he starts moving towards him, Ronan can _feel_ time standing still, and everything around him seems to be become sharper, somehow. He’s almost waking up. “I promise it’s nothing bad. I’m just… preparing,” Adam says, gesturing at the tub; honest smile still in place.

“Okay,” Ronan finds himself saying as Adam gets closer, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. Ronan wraps his arms around him, like he always does, and Adam should smell like cleaning supplies yet he doesn’t, and it feels so comfortable and safe that he wishes they could stay like this forever. Right now, he doesn’t see why they couldn’t.

Adam meets his gaze with an approving groan, lifting one hand to caress Ronan’s cheek. Incredibly, it smells like the hand cream he dreamt so many years ago. “You’ve changed,” Adam says, his voice equally content and surprised.

“I didn’t change,” Ronan says instinctively; like he’s defending himself, even though he has no idea what Adam is talking about. Adam just keeps smiling, slowly running his fingers through Ronan’s growing stubble, and Ronan feels his arm moving, reaching for Adam’s hand with his own. He caresses the skin under his fingers softly, reverently, until his touch is met with cold metal.

He could swear he was holding Adam’s right hand, but when he looks down, it’s his left, and there, wrapped securely around his ring finger, is a simple, delicate gold band. He can feel his heart stop, frozen, though his fingers never stop caressing Adam’s skin. His head is spinning, and he forces himself to stay in the dream, to open his mouth and ask, _how, when, where—_

 

Ronan opens his eyes.

Chainsaw is flying in circles just above his head, and her shrill caw tells him she’s been at it for a while. When she sees him blink awake, she sits right on top of his chest, and caws louder.

“Alright, just shut up, I’m going,” he says, stretching his arms. “You know you could hunt, you lazy bird.”

Chainsaw chooses to ignore him, but stops at the foot of the bed to wait politely. There’s no sign of Adam, and Ronan’s inner puppy whines a little. It’s Adam’s first morning back at the Barns for the summer, and Ronan was hoping for a lazy morning in bed. Maybe a little cuddling, a little lazy sex. Not that he would ever ask for the cuddling out loud.

_Must be later than I thought_. He doesn’t bother checking the time, though. Adam was probably just downstairs with coffee and a new book in hand; what he called _leisure reading_ , the maniac. He’d have to be, Ronan supposes, in order to survive grad school on a full scholarship.

As Ronan finally sits up, mind full of _Adam, Adam, Adam_ and the fact that next year there would be no _home for the summer_ but just _home_ , something clatters to the floor. He looks down, confused, and at first he can’t see anything amiss – which is something only he is capable of, really, considering his side of the bedroom is currently room for various mismatched socks, a pair of jeans, empty bottles of water, a vinyl player, and a miniature of the Pig that became just as loud as its life-sized counterpart when picked up.

And then he sees the glint of gold against the dark wooden floor.

His mind feels fuzzy, and he picks up the pair of rings as if afraid they might turn into dust the moment he touches them. They don’t, of course, and sit heavy on his palm instead; two simple gold bands, one slightly smaller than the other. He holds his breath as he inspects them, half-expecting cheesy engravings like a date or something in Latin, but the insides are unadorned; nothing but smooth metal.

Ronan plops back down on the bed, stunned. When was the last time he brought something back unintentionally? It had to have been months ago, close to a year now. He’d been working really hard on having total control over his dreams, particularly when it came to living beings or very large objects. A pair of rings is neither, he supposes, but the weight of their significance feels infinitely heavier.

He’d never really cared about his and Adam’s status. _Boyfriend_ seemed too silly for what they had; _partner_ made it seem like they were two businessmen in stuffy suits people like Declan wore.

They were Adam and Ronan. Magician and Greywaren.

But of course, that meant nothing to most people, other than that they were likely eccentric, and probably pretentious. Ronan wasn’t one to care for other’s opinions, really, but Adam was. His need to prove himself to the world often made Ronan’s heart clench in his chest, hoping that Adam would realise sooner rather than later that his peace of mind would not come from anyone’s approval other than his own.

_This is my husband, Ronan_ , he imagines Adam saying, and something flares up inside him, burning every cell in his body with yearning. Pride and warmth were feelings he didn’t usually associate with the notion of a marriage, which seemed so archaic in its conception. But being Adam’s husband meant that Adam had chosen _him_ , out of everyone else. It meant that, no matter what, _he_ was the one Adam wanted to spend his life with; the one he would follow anywhere.

But that is exactly what bothers him, isn’t it? _Would_ Adam follow him anywhere? Or better yet, would Adam _stay_ for him?

A big, selfish part of him wants to think so. But the part of him that truly loves Adam knows that he would let Adam go if that was what he truly wanted. If that was what would truly make him happy.

Truthfully, Ronan is afraid Adam’s happiness does not lie with him.

Adam doesn’t want things handed out to him, or to walk paths carved by anyone other than himself. Ronan respects that, of course, but often he just wants to shake Adam and his self-imposed detachment. To show Adam that he doesn’t need to go through things alone, and that it only hurts them when he tries. That Ronan is so fucking proud of him, and that Adam is so focused on being _more_ that he fails to see everything he already _is_.

For so long, Adam’s plan had just been to run. From Henrietta, from Virginia, from the world. Ronan hopes that has changed, now, but he’s been too afraid to ask. Of course, there were his own sacrifices to consider as well. He could see himself leaving the Barns, for Adam. He’s not so sure he could see himself truly staying away from it.

Ronan sighs, annoyed. His head fucking hurt.

He looks at the rings one last time, torn, before hiding them inside one of the strewn socks he picked up, sniffed, and deemed clean. Adam has always refused to pick up after Ronan’s mess, so a random sock was probably the safest place for them right now.

Ronan offers his shoulder to a very angry-looking Chainsaw, finally set on giving her breakfast, when the sound of the front door closing makes him momentarily freeze. There’s no way Adam can know anything, he reminds himself, and lets out a shaky breath just as he hears Adam shout.

“Are you still in bed, you lazy bastard? It’s past eleven!”

Ronan grins, putting his predicament aside for the moment. Everything felt better, more tangible, with Adam back.

 “I wake up all by myself after blowing you last night and I’m the bastard?” he retorts, finding something gross that Chainsaw would find delicious and setting her on the porch. The snort Adam lets out tells Ronan he’s in the kitchen. “Where the hell were you?” he asks, no real bite in his voice, and as he enters the kitchen he sees Adam rummaging around in the fridge.

“Groceries. All you had was mayo and frozen pizzas.”

Not caring for Adam’s accusing tone, Ronan scrunches up his nose in defiance.

“A perfectly fine meal,” he says, but Adam just smiles back at him, easy and comfortable. Like he knows Ronan is being an idiot on purpose, and wouldn’t have him any other way. Ronan can’t help but smile back, and fucking Jesus they were becoming too fucking sappy.

Adam suddenly bites his lips, abashed, and mumbles “Help me out, will ya,” his accent coming through as he gestures the things he was putting away. “I’ll make some eggs.”

After a breakfast full of stolen kisses and Ronan pretending to be bored by Adam’s stories about his classes, Ronan almost believes that he can just forget all about what he had brought back from his dream – and most importantly, what it really meant.

 

It lasts about a week.

“Okay, I can’t take this anymore,” Adam says one afternoon. He’d been fiddling with his phone (a terrible habit, really) while Ronan, feet on Adam’s lap, played something gory on his laptop. Or pretended to, at least. “You’ve been staring at my hands all week. As in, even more than usual, and it’s creeping me out.”

Ronan looks caught for a second, before easing into a mocking expression.

“How _dare_ you shame me for my kink, Parrish. It’s not even one of the bad ones. Did you know that some people are into pi-”

“ _Ronan_!” Adam cuts him off, his voice both amused and annoyed. “I’m serious. Tell me what’s going on.”

Ronan holds his gaze before he suddenly looks down, vulnerable. It’s a disconcerting look on him, and Adam kind of wishes he hadn’t said anything now.

“What happens when you graduate?”

Adam blinks, puzzled. He thought this would be about Ronan, not him. And he knows it isn’t, not really, but he’s not sure how to steer the conversation towards what it actually is.

“Well, they kick me out of the student dorms, but they also give me a fancy piece of paper that says I’m a real doctor, so I can’t really complain,” he tries, but the frown on Ronan’s face tells him his attempt at lightening the mood was not appreciated. He sighs. “I get a job, Ronan, what else?"

“A job… here? In Henrietta?” Ronan asks in a low voice, eyes fixed somewhere across the room.

Ah. There it was.

Truthfully, Adam feels bad that he’d been so pig-headed in the past that now Ronan is actually afraid to touch the subject; but he’d be dammed if he was actually going to apologize. He’d had his reasons; most of which included running away from a place he’d come to associate with privileged assholes and punches as welcome home greetings. He obviously hadn’t been counting on crazy adventures on a forest dreamt by his boyfriend and finding himself in the process (or said boyfriend, really).

“Even Henrietta needs paediatricians, doesn’t it?”

Ronan’s head spins so fast Adam wonders how his neck didn’t snap. He looks at Adam, eyes bright. “Really?”

Adam sighs. They’re not used to these conversations. They’re more of a unspoken words kind of couple, and to be fair, a fight or two aside, it works just fine for them.

“I _have_ grown a bit in the last few years. Wanting to leave Henrietta… that was very real once. I hated here, hated how it made me feel. But after all we’ve been through? All these years? I can’t even think of leaving,” he pauses, looks directly into Ronan’s eyes. “You’re here,” he finished with a whisper.

“I don’t want you to do this for me,” Ronan says in a quiet voice, as if it pains him to say the words.

“I’m not,” Adam assures him. “I’m doing this for me,” he says, and Ronan believes him. “Though I am _quite fond_ of you, too,” he finishes in his best Gansey impersonation.

Ronan laughs, touching his ankle in a light caress. He avoids Adam’s gaze though, and Adam figures that if he had to open up, Ronan sure as hell has to too. “What is this really about?”

Chewing on his lower lip, Ronan keeps drawing invisible patterns from Adam’s ankle to his feet, and Adam waits in silence. After a few minutes, Adam sees his frown morph into that _fuck it_ expression that Ronan wears so well, and he braces himself as Ronan says “I’ll be right back.”

Adam just raises one eyebrow and waits, going back to the messages on his phone. Blue has sent him another picture of Gansey sleeping and Henry drawing hearts on his face with a sharpie. At least it’s hearts, this time.

When Ronan comes back, there’s a defiant look in his eyes, and he’s holding a single black sock.

Well.

They have certainly lived through more peculiar moments, though Adam can’t think of a single one right now, with Ronan holding the sock as if it contains the secrets of the universe. Knowing what Ronan could do, it might actually be true.

Ronan sits back down, holding the sock with much more care than he should have, really, but still keeps silent. Adam briefly wonders if they’re actually in one of his dreams, or Cabeswater, or possibly an episode of the Twilight Zone.

“You know I love you,” Ronan blurts out, so quick and sudden that Adam holds a breath. That one also usually went unspoken. “My life is here now. At the Barns. And if you really want to stay…” he stops, frowning. Then he swallows once, and looks at Adam with a little more determination. “I want you to stay. I know it’s fucking selfish, but you said you wanted to stay, too, so I wanted you to know. And I guess I didn’t even know how much this bothered me until this morning. But we’ve been… _us_ for years now, and I suppose this is how my stupid brain found a way to tell me I need you to know that I’m serious. About us.”

Adam’s head feels light. Ronan’s words are hardly worthy of a Hollywood script, but they’re still so perfect, in a Ronan-esque sort of way. Ronan’s feelings had always been blunt and all-consuming, like a blanket warming Adam from head to toe the moment Ronan entered his mind _(does he ever really leave?)_. But this is different, somehow. This is more than a declaration; it’s a promise.

Adam doesn’t get to say anything back, though, because before he can open his mouth, Ronan is turning the sock upside down, and two gold rings fall into his open palm. Two wedding rings.

“I dreamt them this morning.” He says, and seems drained of words after that, only stretching his arm forward so that Adam can look at them.

Two gold bands, simple and elegant. Adam picks them up carefully, eyes focused on his own palm now, but he can see Ronan running a hand through his head from the corner of his eye. Nervous.

“Ronan, are you…?” He can’t finish it. He can’t finish the goddamn sentence because _Ronan fucking Lynch_ wants to spend the rest of his life with him and this is more than Adam ever deserved. It shocks him, how he’d never really cared about marriage before, but right now, he’d never wanted something so fiercely.

“Well, technically no,” Ronan says, breaking the spell. “They’re not engagement ones, are they? So I guess I’m asking you to… be married to me. Like, starting now.” His voice trembles at the end, and Adam is very aware of how unusual and possibly ridiculous this situation is.

And he can’t find in his heart to care. His own voice waivers.

“The others are gonna be really mad we did this without them, you know.” _Yes, yes, yes._

Just for a second, Ronan’s world stops spinning, and he prays he isn’t in another dream. Then his face splits into a smile, and Adam finds that his heart has never felt so full. He would never tire of Ronan’s genuine smiles, the ones that are made of nothing but pure joy.

“We could tell them we eloped,” he recovers, failing miserably at his nonchalant façade. “I’ve always though you looked like one of those weirdos who secretly wanted to get married by a fat Elvis in flip-flops.”

“Fuck you,” Adam says, laughing, and before he can think of a clever comeback, Ronan kisses him.

They’ve shared many kisses throughout the years. Lazy kisses on early mornings, and heated kisses with teeth biting lips late at night. Small, loving kisses on a tattoo, and reverent touches of lips on deft fingers. But this kiss is different from all the ones that came before. This kiss is a promise. This kiss is a _vow_.

When they pull back, Ronan picks up the rings again, and his hand trembles as he gestures for Adam’s left hand. There’s such devotion in his gaze that Adam wants to cry, and he lifts his hand with a shaky smile. Careful fingers run through his skin, exploring them as if it were the first time. Ronan gives him one last look before placing the ring on his finger and squeezing his hand, a jittery chuckle leaving his mouth. Adam chuckles with him, a little breathless, then picks up the second ring and follows Ronan’s steps. Then there’s quiet, just the two of them looking down, at the promise they just made. The gold bands fit perfectly.

Adam is about to kiss him when he suddenly stops, a confused frown marring his features.

“Wait, why were they in a sock?”

Ronan just grins, and kisses him again.


End file.
